


you got something i need

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is the heart while Zeljko is the brain. Without Zeljko, he would not be. </p><p>Five moments with Klopp and Zeljko</p>
            </blockquote>





	you got something i need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesbleusthroughandthrough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbleusthroughandthrough/gifts).



> I gotta say this was nervewracking because basically had to handle a whole new muse with klopp but I hope ya'll like it<3

_Reserved_ is what he thinks when he first meets Zeljko. It isn't shyness. He stares straight at the camera when they take the team photo and his stride is even as they come out of the unfamiliar tunnel. He doesn't hide so much as let others take the stage first.

If Juergen is good at anything, it is being a showman.

It is the third to last game of the season and they have barely avoided the bottom of the table. It is a proven fact that it is much easier to score on your own ground but they do not have the luxury this time. It is a sluggish game against Hansa Rostock, half time had come and gone until a foul is called.

Juergen jumps in his place, ready to breathe life into the game. He has a good feeling but nerves slow down time, makes his blood crawl as his heart pounds. Zeljko lets it fly, the scramble ends with a pinball between defenders until it falls at his feet.

He kicks with force, willing the world to cooperate, willing it to not in a goalless tie like so many others. The goalkeeper's fingers find empty space instead of the ball.

Juergen yells ecstatic. His teammates crowd around him, his happiness infectious. Zeljko manages to solidify their lead, burying the third ball into the net. The score ends in their favor 4-1 but they celebrate like they've won a championship. The feeling heady and thrumming under his skin.

"You are top goalscorer now," He points out with a grin. Zeljko looks surprised, flushed from a win and clean from a shower.

"Keeping count?" His german is measured and accented but Juergen can tell it is jesting, humor inflecting his voice and face. The others would say, "Buvac is stiff, never joking, nice but too polite" but Juegen knew differently. You only had to look beyond the surface.

"Of course," He drapes an arm around the slighter man, "Better to have more to celebrate. Two seasons, and you can already read my mind, imagine what we can do with more!"

But they don't get much more time. Zeljko leaves and starts coaching as Jurgen falls back into a new position, starts getting more players to pay attention to what he has to say, and ends up liking it so much he knows exactly who to call when he is appointed the Mainz manager.

It takes them three seasons to get Mainz where it had never been before.

"I couldn't have done it without you." His words are almost silent amidst the roar of fans. Zeljko pats him, his hands always more animated with joy.

"We are better together, you said so yourself." He lets him go to push him towards the team. The show would go on as long as they were together.

 

* * *

 

The first hug is always bestowed on Zeljko by tradition, he is not entirely sure if it is because he is the closest or the one he seeks out to reassure him that everything is real. Unless Zeljko is running with him to meet the players like when Shinji scores and ends the title race with a beauty. The team huddled in the corner in front of the Yellow Wall waits for Shinji to reach him, knowing this is special. They are the league champions for the second time in a row.

Zeljko teases him after, "He's your favorite."

He snorts because if push came to shove he could never choose. All of his players were special to him in different ways.

"I can guess yours, yes, hmm Neven? He is very much like you in your younger days. Even has the same hairstyle," He chuckles out, resisting messing with the dark locks as there were still cameras about.

"Neven? No, no definitely Kuba." Juergen adopts a serious frown out of place with the mirth that was just shining from his eyes.

"You're a bad liar Zeljko, and you shouldn't start now." He had too much faith in him and had spent too many years with him to lose that trust. Zeljko smiles, eyes drawn to his feet.

"Of course, you're my oldest friend, Juergen. But I could make a case for Grosskreutz. He is most like you, I think. Mouth always running because of his passion for the game." Silence steeps into the moment, coloring their musings softer, more intimate. Zeljko had spent most of his life in Germany alongside Juergen and it showed in the understanding they had of each other.

"I still maintain, it is Neven. You joke with him." in their common tongue which he had never mastered enough to eavesdrop on.

"Only to soften the threats." He quips before adding, "and he is the best way to get Mats to listen."

Juergen can think of another thick head that needs a partner to keep him in check, but says nothing, quietly checking it off as a victory. After all, Zeljko hadn't argued this time.

 

* * *

 

Zeljko pours him a drink the day Mario's transfer is official. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply before letting the amber whiskey touch his tongue, the burning trail to his guts not bringing him any comfort. Football was a business after all. That was the side of it Juergen would never understand. He felt too much to keep a head clear enough to negotiate.

It wasn't really his decision to make but this one felt like a wound too sharp to ignore.

It was the team that worried him, Mario's friends, the fans, and the outrage. He tried to move his thoughts away from Marco and his red eyes, his sullen face he was greeted with in the locker room.

If he felt this bad, he knew Marco felt worse.

"There goes the perfect storm." His office seems too small to hold all of his worry but too vast in aftermath. A walk would be in order as soon as he finished the drink.

"Storms were never meant to last long, Juergen. We've still got Robert and Santana to counter. Marco will find someone else to link up with. It'll be tough to play through this commotion but we've got to keep going." Zeljko stated firmly, and he was right. They still had a shot at winning Champions League.

They would show the world they were made of stronger stuff. One of their own would be leaving, but they would try their best to make it an unforgettable farewell.

"Do you ever miss Neukirchen?" The glass feels slippery under his fingers after the awful thought that Zeljko might be missing on other opportunities by staying as his assistant coach.

Zeljko stares at him, his brows tilting down, not quite angrily, concerned perhaps that his moroseness was still leeching onto his thoughts. He doesn't move from his seat in front of him but leans in with a serious countenance.

"No, not at all." Jurgen's shoulders drop weight suddenly, his lungs feeling the better for it. The other man takes his glass and drains it.

"I am not suited for your job, or else they would've gotten rid of you a long time ago." He stands, wordlessly ready to face the next battle, whether it be the critics or his own thoughts. Juergen shakes his head, disbelief coloring his smile.

"So sure of yourself, are you? We better make use of that brain then. Madrid will be tricky to stop."

In the end, they only walk as far as the drawing board.

 

* * *

 

When Liverpool comes calling. He calls Zeljko first.

"Of course I'll go with you. I had thought you were going to wait some more for another post?" Zeljko doesn't judge him by the same measure as the world, and he knew better than to try to convince him that he should take the time off after the emotional parting from Dortmund. He would follow him to make sure it'll go alright.

Juergen immediately likes it in England. The people welcome him with open arms and he tries his best to follow along even as their English gets stranger and stranger.

He isn't a stranger to English. He had classes and made an effort to speak enough of it for the benefit of foreigners, whether part of his staff or players. He knows it's as universal as a language can get, but slang has never been his strong suit and accents even less.

Henderson makes an effort to enunciate and reminds everyone else by example that their new manager isn't fluent. The only one that manages to forget is Lallana who talks his ear off in a friendly way, advising him on where to eat and where to go to get an authentic Liverpool experience. He's full of heart and Juergen can communicate with that.

Zeljko makes sure to not interrupt Adam when he can, amused at the way Lallana seems to make everything brighter and everyone happier.

"They trademarked your Normal One title." He taps the print out he placed on his desk. Juergen barks out in laughter. There is something lighter within him in England. Perhaps it is the new adventure or the new country but even though he dubbed himself normal, it doesn't change how special Liverpool is.

Victory is hard-earned he's always known that and he also knows the pressure these players are under, their legend leaving, their captain out from injury and their acting captain still new, still learning to be part of the team.

So he did the best he could under the circumstances. He learned who they were and how they played and what they felt after a loss, after a draw, after a win.

He hugged them each after, reassuring them he was here to stay, that it would get better, that they will _be_ better. All they needed was some time to get to know each other.

After a brainstorming session, Zeljko pushes papers for a moment before nodding his head as if he could hear a tune no one else could.

"We're going to do great things with these boys."

"Six months and you're already giving them your heart?" Juergen feels it too, feels the green shoots of spring, of change around the corner, of potential.

"It doesn't take long to fall in love," He replies wisely.

No, he realizes, he's already much too fond of all of them.

Like a small prophecy, Zeljko's words echo as they win against Manchester United. They are heroes for a moment, but what a moment it was.

 

* * *

 

The draw against Dortmund is almost predictable, too tempting for fate not to gamble on it. He worries only for a minute before using that worry to fuel him, to study against Thomas Tuchel's Dortmund with familiar faces. He watches footage and cheers, whoops, and curses at the impressive season they've had.

He starts carrying a small notebook for whatever idea strikes him in the middle of the night or driving to the training grounds. The only positive of losing in their FA cup match is they had less games to worry about now.

Dortmund welcomes him back and he uses everything he's learned to keep the scoreline at 0-1.

By the time the return comes, he knows they are hungry and will not leave without drawing blood. Henrikh ends up finishing what Auba started with the first goal. He applauds Simon for his save that in the end wasn't enough.

Aubeyang beats his defenders and Juergen laments. They would have to try harder, be faster. They couldn't give up.

The second half is more composed, they create chances and he waves at the crowd, be louder, make them feel your belief. Philippe starts the comeback and he nods, knowing they could do it.

Mama goes for another from Coutinho's corner and he can feel victory creeping into his fingertips.

It is just into stoppage time when Dejan finds Milner's cross and they've done it. He doesn't go over to them yet. He turns and watches the staff elated, but the crowd is jumping, unstoppable momentum within the stadium. He meets Zeljko's eyes with hope in his heart.

He doesn't sprint. He walks, claps along at both ends of the pitch, thanking Dortmund, thanking _the Kop_.

As a trainer, they never ask him about being a one-club man or his best goal, they ask him about his players, his tactics, his bluster and passion. They cut him down to brash emotion and words. He is Klopp of Mainz, of Dortmund, of Liverpool.

He is more than one club as a trainer. He is every club. One at a time, Juergen carries the soul of his team into his heart.

He is the heart while Zeljko is the brain. Without Zeljko, he would not be.


End file.
